


I Will Burn With You

by OctobersLily510



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bit of Cliche, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slight Period-Typical Language, Tudor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctobersLily510/pseuds/OctobersLily510
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall sighed, pressing a kiss to Zayn's shoulder before untangling himself, making to get off of the bed. Zayn caught his waist, wrapping both arms around him. "Stay." He pleaded, already feeling his loss.</p><p>Niall settled back, turning around in his embrace. "I’m sharing with the other manservants - they'll miss me soon."<br/>"Just ten minutes more. I have missed you."</p><p>He sighed in defeat, cuddling in closer and entwining their fingers. "Five minutes." </p><p>Niall and Zayn have been in love with each other for ten years: they are happy.</p><p>But in the court of Henry VIII, such happiness is punishable by death...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Burn With You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I love the pairing of Zayn/Niall and have had this idea swimming around in my brain for a few months now - finally got the courage to post it today! It's my first work on this site, and I am still trying to figure out the ins and outs of it, so please bear with me!  
> And criticisms and comments are appreciated, and if you notice any glaring historical inaccuracies I may have missed, please let me know so I can fix it!
> 
> Harry/Louis are quite minor in this story, I'm afraid, but they are there, especially at the end!
> 
> I do not own or am affiliated with One Direction in any way, as much as I wish otherwise...
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This story contains mentions of anal sex, very slight foul language, period typical homophobia and non-graphic character death.

If there was one thing Zayn hated more than anything, it was a banquet.

It wasn’t he didn’t enjoy the feast: all the twenty-something types of meat and vegetables, pastries and pies and dumplings, sweetmeats and cakes…he loved his food, and the few acquaintances he had at court were pleasant enough company. His three little sisters always enjoyed themselves, which was always a delight to watch – they were shameless in their flirting, especially the two elder.

What Zayn really hated was the dancing.

And the woman. He couldn’t forget the woman.

It was not that they were unpleasant or unappealing; he could hold a decent enough conversation with a few of them, and they were all very beautiful - even he could not deny that.  
The problem lay not with the woman themselves, but the pushing of his parents to choose a good enough girl, court and marry her. Ever since he was 16, his parents had been on fire to see him married and settled. As the oldest and the heir, they had pinned their impossibly high hopes onto him from an early age. And while Zayn loved his family, he had stood his ground on this, saying he was absolutely firm in not being ready for marriage.

Of course, it had fallen on deaf ears.

Which now lead to his current predicament: being measured and dressed like a doll in black velvet with expensive silver trim, his hair combed and fluffed to ‘perfection.’ He looked ridiculous, and said as much to anyone who was listening.

“Enough of that, darling, you look wonderful.” His lady mother chastised, seated on the chaise in the centre of his chambers. She had already been dressed earlier, and cut a striking figure in a gown of buttercup yellow silk. Zayn sighed and batted away yet another tailor, waving silver pins about like daggers in the attempt to fix an apparently crooked stick. “Lady Mother…”  
She cut him off with a long-suffering sigh, waving her fan at him threateningly. “Do not even start Zayn, all I am asking for is one night of being polite and civil to the young ladies of the court. There will be many a girl of good breeding there tonight. Why, Lady Margaret was saying her niece was to be at court this summer – a very accomplished girl, charming and sweet…”  
He blocked it all out as his mother went on and on about the various ladies of the court and their accomplishments…or scandals, as the case may be. He had long since given up arguing with either of his parents on the matter. 

Eventually, his mother stood, signalling the tailors to stop in their ministrations. She looked him up and down critically before breaking into a wide smile, taking his face in her hands a pressing a fond kiss to his forehead. “You look absolutely dashing, my boy, the ladies will not be able to keep their eyes of you!”  
He tried not to grimace as he gave her his thanks.

“Now, I really must check up on your sisters – I shall send in one of the manservants to help you finish getting ready.” He barely managed to finish his ‘farewell’ before in a swirl of yellow silk and silver pins, they were gone.

With a sigh that was equal parts frustration and relief, Zayn turned back to the mirror and pulled at the constricting fabric at his throat; he felt as if he could not get enough air into his lungs. So intent was he on loosening the buttons, he did not register the door opening and then closing with a gentle snick.

He jumped slightly when a gentle, warm pair of hands settled on his shoulders, fingers slipping under the collar and caressing the smooth skin of his neck. He sighed in pure relief this time, dropping his arms and relaxing against the body behind him. Now, now he could breathe again.

“You’re gonna rip it, the way your tuggin at it, love.” A softly accented voice whispered in his ear, and Zayn smiled as the pale hands travelled down his chest, gently undoing the fastenings as they went. “I thought you were meant to be helping me get ready?” He smirked as he felt the now-loose garment being pulled off of his shoulders, not even caring when it was dropped to the floor as he slowly turned around, meeting a pair of sky-blue eyes.

Niall grinned as he began laying butterfly kisses along his jaw, down his neck and across his collarbones. “I think you look rather handsome like this.” He murmured in between kisses, pulling at the loose white linin of Zayn’s shirt to gain more access to his chest. The dark-haired man groaned, his eyes sliding closed as Niall finally raised his head and pressed their lips together, wasting no time in deepening the kiss. “Been too long.” Niall murmured, and Zayn made a noise of agreement – his lips were otherwise occupied.

He tangled a hand in Niall’s hair, the other trailed down his back, feeling the contours of his spine contract and shift under the velvet doublet. “Missed you today.” He whispered, finally breaking the kiss to nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and spice. “Your father demanded my help while you were getting ready, could only get away now.” Niall paused to move his hands across Zayn’s shoulders and back. “Just so happened to arrive as your mother was leaving – think she was impressed with my servant’s intuition.” Niall’s chuckle turned into a sigh when he felt Zayn frown against his neck.

He pulled away gently. “It is what it is, love.”

But Zayn hated that though Niall’s family owned a good bit of land and a few titles themselves, he was still considered a manservant – trusted and respected as Zayn’s favourite – but a servant nonetheless. Zayn himself had never thought of Niall as such: they had played together as infants, studied together as children, hunted and fought with each other as they grew, and finally, became lovers one quiet night after a summer of avoided glances, lingering touches and long prayers for salvation.

Zayn had never seen Niall as anything other than an equal.

Niall pulled away and smiled sadly as he bent to pick up the forgotten black velvet, smoothing out the creases and slipping it over Zayn’s shoulders. It was time to return to the real world.  
“You will be there tonight, won’t you?” He asked, a hint of panic in his voice at the thought that Niall would already be occupied, by the instruction of either of their fathers.’  
But Niall glanced up and smiled, his eyes sapphire in the firelight. “Of course.” He murmured, leaning forward until his lips grazed Zayn’s ear. “I’ll be there to remind you who you belong to, after all, there will be a lot of pretty girls there tonight…”

Zayn smirked in amusement at the undercurrent of jealously in Niall’s voice. “There may be, but there is only one whom I wish to take to my chambers tonight, and it is no girl.” He glanced around the room, eyeing the closed door, before lowering his voice even more. “Will you come tonight? It has been too long…”

Niall’s grin was wolfish in the firelight. “Of course, husband.” The last word was said with the ghost of a breath, but it was enough to almost stop Zayn’s heart.  
Right now, he really fucking hated this banquet. 

****

Eight hours later, and his mind had still not been changed. 

The feast had been wonderful as usual, and the wine was free flowing. His sisters had never been without a dancing partner, and as promised, he had been introduced to Lady Margaret’s niece, who was every bit as charming and sweet as his mother had described. She laughed when he said something funny, would smile and blush when complimented and agreed with his opinions on the weather and the results of the tennis match of the day before.

Zayn found it almost unbearable. 

She was a lovely girl, but that was just it: she ignited no spark, no passion within him. If he married her, he would become – as cruel as it may sound – bored within a year. Of course, her body was all soft curves while he preferred hard muscle. 

But he shook that thought out of his head quickly.

He did catch glances of Niall throughout the night, and during dinner he was always on hand to refill his master’s wine. But it was not enough. Zayn wanted more than anything to claim Niall's hand for the dances; escort him around the hall; sit next to him at dinner and refill his goblet - but these were pipe dreams; unattainable and impossible.  
It was when his companion asked him if he was well did he realise he had stopped participating in the conversation.  
“I’m sorry, my lady, I am slightly out of sorts this evening, what was it you said?”  
“No matter, sir. I was wondering on your opinions of what the weather will be like next week?”  
The weather…for next week?

He was done.

Expressing his sincere gratitude to Lady Margaret’s niece (Anne, Amanda, Amy?) for her delightful company and the honour of being her dance partner, he made a hasty exit. He caught sight of his mother scolding his youngest sister on the wine stain on her dress and his father in a corner, drinking and playing cards. 

Perfect. He left unnoticed.

He was filled with anticipation when he arrived. He had not seen Niall for the last half hour of the banquet, and was hoping he had already left.

He was not disappointed.

A fire had already been lit in his chambers, warming the usually cold room. A jug of wine and two cups sat on the table.  
But all Zayn could focus on was Niall, who had already divested himself of his doublet and shirt and sat only in his trousers, hair slightly tousled and eyes fire-lit, the flames dancing across the two rings that hung around his neck. He picked up his own cup and drank some wine as Zayn watched him, smirking as his eyes focused on the movement of Niall's throat as he swallowed. His clothes suddenly felt tight.

Niall said nothing - he didn’t need too. 

Zayn pulled off the black velvet so fast he almost ripped it in his haste. His shirt too was instantly discarded, and he stood in front of Niall in anticipation; the flames flickering over his olive-toned skin. 

They paused, as if savouring the moment, before Niall stood up and Zayn stepped forward and they met somewhere in the middle, hands tangling in hair and lips crashing together.

"Bed. Now. I won’t last long tonight." Zayn demanded into Niall's mouth. A growl was all the response given.  
They did not separate, Zayn merely pulled Niall forward while he himself was pushed back, and together they fell onto Zayn's silk bedspread, Niall moaning into Zayn’s skin at the feeling.  
Zayn was right, they did not last long.  
They did not have the luxury of time in this place to worship each other as they wished, but Zayn still took the time to prepare his lover before joining their bodies together, rocking them both to completion. They muffled their moans and shouts in each others skin and the feather pillows, and afterwards, they lay tangled together; skin flushed and limbs shaky.

Niall sighed, pressing a kiss to Zayn's shoulder before untangling himself, making to get off of the bed. Zayn caught his waist, wrapping both arms around him. "Stay." He pleaded, already feeling his loss.

Niall settled back, turning around in his embrace. "I’m sharing with the other manservants - they'll miss me soon."

"Just ten minutes more. I have missed you."

He sighed in defeat, cuddling in closer and entwining their fingers. "Five minutes." Zayn smiled sadly as Niall nuzzled into his neck, and began running his fingers gently along the younger boy's back.

"I want to go home." Niall whispered into his shoulder, pulling back to look into his eyes. "Court is getting worse every year, I just want to go where we can be safer, where we can just be together..." 

He shifted backwards, tracing his fingers along the crease of Zayn's eyes, the bump of his cheekbone, the silk of his cheek. Zayn eyes closed as he leaned into the touch. "Soon, I promise. Winter's almost over. I'll convince my parents I need to leave earlier than planned. We can spend all summer together then: I'll give the servants’ a holiday, and it'll just be you and me..."  
"Sounds wonderful." Niall murmured wistfully, dropping his hand and once again pulling away from Zayn. "I really must go now, my love, but I shall attend to you first thing tomorrow morning." He quickly redressed and bent to kiss him once more, wanting to taste him for as long as possible. 

"I love you." Zayn whispered as they parted, eyes dark and sad as Niall pulled back. "I love you too."

And with a soft snick of the door, he was gone.

Zayn didn’t get to sleep for a long time.

****

The next morning, after quick kisses, a shared breakfast and a promise to meet later, Zayn headed down to his parent's chambers. He knew that if he didn’t go himself they’d send servants to fetch him this afternoon. He was already planning a ride out with Niall on the pretence of exercising his thoroughbred, Warrior.

His mother's maid, Catherine answered the door and promptly dropped into a curtsey. "My lady is getting dressed, sir, if you could please wait a moment?" 

"Thank you, Catherine." He smiled. She had worked for the family for ten years, and had all but raised the two younger of his sisters. 

Soon enough, his mother bustled into the room, looking meticulous as always. "Ahhh, my boy! How good to see you this morning." She smiled, and motioned for him to sit. "I trust you had a good night at the banquet last night?" Her eyes were mischievous, and he groaned internally - it wasn’t like he had an engagement to announce!

"It was splendid as always, lady mother, the King truly has no equal in hospitality in Europe." He answered, dreading the rest of this conversation already.

She nodded. "Of course, there is no doubt." She took a sip of watered-down wine. "I saw you spending quite a bit of time with Lady Anne - she is charming, I'm sure you'll agree?"  
Zayn hesitated. "Her company was...pleasant enough." He said carefully, not wanting to encourage this line of questioning. 

Of course, he knew by now that his mother needed no encouragement...

"Splendid! I’m so proud of you - how long I have waited for this day! Have you spoken to her again yet? Remember, you must have a chaperone..."

"Mother please, I only just met her!"

His mother merely shrugged. "I only knew your father for a short time before we were married."

"I just want to get to know her better, mother." He murmured, taking a sip of wine. He wished now he'd insisted Niall accompany him. He always felt better with Niall by his side.  
His mother, meanwhile, was not finished. "There is nothing wrong with courting her son, I suppose I’m glad - it is a testament to how you were raised. But don’t wait too long..." She chuckled, her eyes bright. "You wouldn’t want some other gentleman to woo her first!" 

Zayn nodded and laughed and smiled back at her, deciding now would be as good a time as any to escape. "May I be excused, lady mother? I wish to arrange to take Warrior out this afternoon for exercise." 

She nodded. "You may. You will be taking Niall with you, of course?"

He nodded. "Of course." He echoed her, mentally forcing himself to keep his hands from trembling, wondering if this was the time she'd finally look close enough to see the secrets written in his eyes, the imprint of Niall's hands on his skin.

But luckily, as always, she merely saw her only son, preparing to ride out with his friend and manservant. 

"I shall see you tonight at dinner, lady mother." He stood and kissed her hand, before taking his leave.

The afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.

****

He met Niall at the stables, who had already prepared Warrior and his own horse, Sabre.

Zayn grinned as he mounted. "Are you sure you're feeling up to this today, Niall? I heard you had a very good time at the feast last night, not returning to your room till late."

Niall's eyes widened slightly, before a faint blush stained his cheeks. "I assure you, sir; I am well rested and fully prepared for the ride ahead. Sabre can top Warrior in a race today, I'll bet."  
Zayn’s hands tightened on the reins, the teasing streak gone as he took in Niall's words. 

He was suddenly on fire to leave.

He forced himself to grin...but he knew it was more of a grimace. "Well, I shall take that wager...hii!"

With a high-pitched cry and a gentle squeeze to his ribs, Warrior was off.

They rode deep into Home Park, King Henry's personal hunting ground. 400 acres of woodland, with lakes both large and small scattered through it. It was the perfect place to ride; to relax; to hunt.

Or to hide.

Warrior was by far the faster mount, and in no time at all Zayn had reined him in just off of a small clearing, dominated by a large oak tree. Filled with impatience, Zayn had already managed to unpack the blanket and the small offering of cold meat, bread, fruit and cheese he had charmed from the kitchen staff by the time Niall had rode into the clearing, pulling Sabre up next to Warrior. 

As he dismounted, he grinned at the offering of food waiting for him, and at Zayn reclining on the blanket, clad only in his shirt and breeches.

He smirked as Niall lay next to him, already reaching to help loosen the strings on his doublet. "You know the way to my heart, my lord."

Zayn chuckled. "I should hope so, my love; I have coveted it for many years."

Niall's eyes softened and he turned in Zayn's embrace. "It has always belonged to you, beloved, never forget that: my heart, my soul, my body, is yours, and yours alone."

Zayn closed his eyes, reaching up to the chain around Niall's neck, kissing the rings that adorned it. "My husband." He whispered into Niall's hair, pulling him closer and nuzzling into his neck, trailing his lips up his lover’s neck, his jaw, his cheek...

When their lips finally met, they were lost.

Zayn pulled at Niall's shirt, bearing the skin underneath to his eyes and hands and mouth. Niall fumbled with Zayn's breeches, trying to get them down without pulling away from him. 

Eventually, Zayn took over, pulling down his own breeches while Niall took care of his shirt. 

Zayn paused with his hands on the fastening of Niall's trousers. "Did you mean what you said earlier? You want to be inside of me?"

Niall looked at him, his eyes sapphire with desire, his hair mussed and lips red and swollen. Zayn felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

'Yes."

Zayn pulled off the rest of Niall's clothes and rolled, pulling the blond boy on top of him.  
There were no more words for a while.

When everything was packed away or eaten (Niall's appetite was legendary) the two men nuzzled into each other, arms and legs intertwined. They stood like that for a long time, just breathing the other in.

"Have you arranged for us to go home yet?" Niall murmured quietly, nuzzling into his neck. The man in question tilted his head back gently, allowing him to fit perfectly into the space. "I've asked my father for an audience tonight, and I'll petition the king too. If all goes well, we will be home in a few weeks."

Niall made a contented sound and pressed closer, his body relaxed and pliant. "I can't wait." 

Zayn smiled into his hair, the smell of linin and grass and Niall filling his senses. “Neither can I."

 

True to his word, Zayn spoke to his father that night, reasoning and arguing that he was thinking of buying more land around his property and wished to arrange viewings and meetings before summer arrived and the farmers would be busy. 

His father, a stern but loving man, took little persuasion, although Zayn did have to suffer through an hour lecture on fair negotiation strategies - it was a small price to pay for the happiness Zayn knew this would cause Niall, especially when his father told him he could leave as soon as he wanted.

The king was a bit harder to convince, seeing as he expected Zayn to order the meetings whenever he wanted, regardless of the season or month. Zayn loved the king as his sovereign lord and the greatest man in England, and was often with him when he went hunting or to tennis matches; but he stood firm in his desire to leave. 

While not really part of the inner circle, Zayn was still a favourite due to his wit and skill at cards. He could tell the king was not happy to see him go at all, and at one point thought the king would order he remain to go on the summer progress, and his heart clenched with fear.

But thank the almighty God, the Queen stepped in for him. He left the royal chambers an hour later, light in heart and manner, because in less than a week he could take his husband home.

 

Niall was overjoyed by the news, wasting no time in making arrangements for both of their belongings to be sent back home. He sent out daily riders and messages ahead to prepare the household for the master's return, and every spare moment was spent in Zayn's arms, planning the most wonderful summer - fishing, hunting, hiking, riding, days out to nearby villages...a whole summer of being together.

They ultimately decided to send Niall on ahead, in order to better prepare the house and the servants. In reality, Zayn was terrified that something would happen to prevent them from returning - it had happened once before, when one of Safaa's maids had fallen ill and Niall was chosen to accompany her and his other sisters on a trip to France to see extended family. It was a miserable three months for both of them, unable to communicate even by letter for fear of it falling into the wrong hands. 

Zayn would be damned if he let that happen again.

The night before Niall's departure found him in Zayn's chambers, frantically wrestling him out of his clothes. "You will see me again in a week, love, slow down." Zayn chuckled, helping Niall with his breeches. The blonde shook his head. "Too long. Want you now."

Well, who was he to say no?

 

The following week was difficult for Zayn. Not only because of Niall’s absence and the fear something would come up that would prevent him from travelling, but because of his mother.  
More specifically, his mother’s desire for grandchildren. 

Convinced that his leaving would mean the Lady Anne would find another suitor, she tried desperately to convince him to postpone or even cancel the trip home. "Lord Adamson danced with her all last night, and just this morning I saw Viscount Richard escort her for a walk in the garden, you must move quickly son! The summer progress is filled with opportunities to search each other out and spend more time together - you could be engaged by August and married by November! You can go home then...especially when she comes to be with child..."

Zayn could literally feel the blood draining from his face. 'Mother, please! I must go home to settle my affairs, it has all been arranged and Niall is there already. If this marriage to Lady Anne is as inevitable as you seem to think, I'm sure it wont make a difference if I leave or not."

"Foolish boy!" His mother sighed, but with more exasperation than anger...Zayn's mouth pulled up in a slight smirk. Victory.

"If I am to marry well, mother, I’m sure more land in my name will do only good?"

She laughed at that. "You are your father's son for sure. Very well, then, enjoy the summer at home, but please return soon, dear heart, I shall miss you."

Zayn softened, and he kissed her hand fondly. "And I you, mother. Good luck with the girls while on progress!"

"God give me the strength." She laughed.

He left the next morning.

****

Zayn finally arrived home after almost 2 days of travelling, and immediately broke into a smile when he saw the grounds and his house spread out before him.

The house itself was considered nothing more than a glorified farm house. It had only three floors plus a garret room at the top, five bed chambers, a drawing room and two sitting/evening rooms, with a kitchen and a small wing of servants quarters attached. The stables could only hold five or six horses, and while the gardens were neat and well maintained, they only spread about 50 acres. 

The property used to belong to his father's most trusted advisor, a man named Robert White. The two men had grown up together; Robert had helped his father invest his money and build his fortunes. He had been Zayn and Niall’s tutor, and they had spent much of their childhood here; learning their letters and practicing their swordplay.

When his wife died, however, Robert was so grief stricken he moved to France to be with his remaining family: a daughter married to a French knight. Before he left, he’d let it be known he wished to sell. 

Zayn had gone to visit him that very afternoon to ask him to name his price.

The house held many memories for Zayn - he had played and studied here all throughout his childhood, Niall by his side. It was here that he had finally admitted to himself that he was in love with Niall in a way he knew he should not be, and also here where he kissed him for the first time in the garden, during a friendly spar. It was here they had first shared a bed. They had told each other they loved the other for the first time in the drawing room, while Robert and his wife were away visiting neighbours. 

And it was here, in the small chapel at the far corner of the house, that they had exchanged their marriage vows the night they moved in.

It was their home.

To everyone else in the world, Niall was Zayn's servant and friend. But in this house, he was his equal. The servants were all handpicked by them both, for their loyalty and service to them and their families. Old Rosie, the housekeeper, had attended both Zayn and Niall's mothers at their birth, and had basically helped raised them ever since.

The two maids, Jess and Lily, were her granddaughters, and had known Zayn and Niall since they themselves had been born. The gardener and groundskeeper, Harry, had served the family since he was a boy, and was a great friend of both Zayn and Niall. However, they knew they could trust him absolutely, as they had once walked in on him and Louis, the stable hand, in a loving embrace. Zayn remembered how both boys had fallen on their knees, begging for mercy. 

Neither had tried to lay blame on the other or claim the devils work, he thinks he defiantly would have punished them if they had. Instead, they had each pleaded for the other, both men laying the blame on himself. Any idiot, he had thought, could have seen that they were in love. 

They were fools to think they could hide it. 

Zayn remembered he had laughed - it was all he could do, just laugh in relief and amazement at the knowledge that he and Niall were not alone; they were not the only ones with these desires. Poor Harry and Louis had looked part terrified and confused, and he fondly remembered the joy on their faces when he and Niall and revealed their own relationship. 

They had sworn to protect each other, and many nights Zayn or Niall would send the other servants home early, so they could all have dinner together freely. It was nights like these that Zayn would wait on Niall, filling his wine goblet or serving him the choicest cuts of meat first. And they would each retire to bed early, both couples as safe as they could be in a world that would see them separated or dead. 

And now, he thought happily as he urged Warrior towards the stables, they had a full summer of it.

Despite his hopes, it was Harry who met him in the courtyard, hay caught in his curly hair, a streak of dirt across his cheek and a wide smile on his lips. "You are early! We didn’t expect you until tomorrow." Zayn laughed in response, swinging down from Warrior's back and patting his neck in thanks. "Remind me to dock the messengers pay." He laughed, pulling Harry into a quick hug. "It is good to see you, my friend. Are you well?"

Harry laughed. "We are grand, Zayn. It is good to have you back. Niall has been up dawn till dusk getting the house and grounds ready."

Zayn frowned. "He has been gardening? Cleaning? Why? What about the others?" 

Harry shrugged helplessly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He insisted, said he would go mad with nothing to do. He's been counting down to your arrival since he left!"  
Zayn joined in his laughter, this time. "I know." He answered softly, the smile still on his lips. He immediately turned towards the house. "Where is he?"

Harry was already pulling off Warrior's bridle. "The house, I think, he was helping old Rosie last I saw!" 

With one more laugh and a wave to Harry's direction, Zayn all but sprinted towards the house. 

He found Niall in the sitting room, beating out the drapes next to the window. He was wearing a simple linin shirt and breeches, and his hair tousled. He looked relaxed, unafraid, and happy. Zayn smiled at the sight, idly watching the muscles in his arms and back bunch under his skin. "You know we employ servants to do that?"

Niall jumped slightly, whipping his head round and grinning in delight. "You're here!" The drapes were forgotten as he headed towards him, pulling the dark-haired boy into his arms. Zayn wrapped his around Niall's waist, the tight knot that had sat in his stomach since they had been separated finally loosening. "I missed you so much." Niall nuzzled into his neck, breath hot against his skin. Zayn buried into his hair, closing his eyes and just breathing him in. "Missed you more." 

 

The household was delighted with the return of the young masters, and no task was too much trouble to ensure they were comfortable. Zayn almost had to order them to go when he told them they could have a weekend off. Old Rosie was particularly insistent on staying, but with the help of Lily and Jess (and Niall's infamous begging expression) she was finally persuaded to go home and rest. 

It was a merry crowd that sat down for dinner that evening. Louis (who had hugged Zayn for close to ten minutes when he saw him) and Harry snuggled together on the chaise, while Niall cuddled into Zayn's lap on the armchair. Zayn fed Niall the best bits from his own plate, alternating it with kisses and nips. They told Harry and Louis the latest court gossip, news and rumours. 

"They say the queen is pregnant again, though it is very hushed up, especially after the last miscarriage." Louis raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "She will be praying it is a boy, of course?"  
Zayn laughed. "No, because that will be admitting that there is a chance it could be a girl, and for the sake of her crown and her head, it cannot be another girl."

“The young Princess has been sent to Hatfield, while workers have already started construction on a nursery for her soon-to arrive brother. He hasn’t even seen the Princess Mary since last year.” Niall chimed in, before stealing another bite of Zayn’s chicken.  
Harry shook his head, expression hard. "Some would kill for a child, and the king can and will just throw away those he does not want. I love him as my king, but as man and a father, he disgusts me."  
"Harry!" Cried Niall, eyes darting around the room. "Watch your tongue, what you say is treason."

Harry just looked at him. "What we are is abhorrent - I highly doubt they will care about what I say."

Louis pulled him closer, somehow able to curl around him despite the height difference, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Hush. Please my love, I know it is hard, but you cannot say things like that. Please, for my sake."

Harry slumped against him, closing his eyes tiredly. Zayn looked on sadly. Harry had always wanted children of his own. But of course, he and Louis could never have that. It was the main reason of their few arguments; Louis saying he would release him if it meant he could have the family he had always wanted, and Harry arguing it would never make him happy because Louis wouldn’t be there. 

Zayn himself had never let himself consider the possibility, though he saw Niall's eyes when he played with Theo, his nephew. It tore into him, seeing that look. He had once, and once only, hinted of giving Niall up to allow him to have his own family, but it caused such devastation and upset that the topic was quickly dropped. 

Now, he only pulled him closer, allowing Harry and Louis their moment. "We are safe here." He mumbled reassuringly into his ear. Niall turned to him then, eyes dull even in the firelight. "No." He said, uncharacteristically serious. "We are safe nowhere."

Zayn pulled him closer. He wanted to pull him inside of his own body, to assure Niall that he was wrong, of course they were safe here; this was their home. 

But he knew deep in his heart that it was a lie. It might be very unlikely to get caught here, but they would never be truly safe, not as long as they each loved the other. 

And that scared Zayn.

 

Thankfully, Harry and Niall both perked up, and just as planned, the boys spent the most wonderful summer together.

Zayn would wake Niall every morning with a kiss before sneaking into his own (rarely used) bedroom and arranging for breakfast to be sent up for them. They would share it, before preparing for whatever Niall had planned. 

And God, did Niall have plans. 

They rode all around the estate, giving Warrior and Sabre their heads and having races. They went fishing and swimming in the ponds in the nearby woods, they visited nearby towns and villages, shopped at the markets, even had their own May Day celebration with Harry and Louis and the rest of the staff.

Zayn did end up buying more land towards the east of his own land, which included ownership of a little cottage at the edge of the woods. It was small but homely, and he immediately made plans to gift it to Harry and Louis when it was ready - they deserved a place of their own.

But the best surprises are the ones you cannot plan or prepare for, the ones you dare not even hope for, and that was exactly what they received on a late June night, with a small, short knock on the window. 

Immediately, they all tensed each reaching out to his partner in fear and reassurance.

The knock sounded again. 

"I will go." Murmured Louis, already standing up. Harry whimpered, reaching out as if to stop him before dropping his hands uselessly. Louis gave him a quick kiss before taking on of the candles and heading towards the door. Zayn clutched Niall tighter, trying to stop himself from shaking. "I love you." He whispered into the pale boy’s ear, so quiet even he could barely hear it. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

There was nothing but silence, and Zayn had never thought he'd heard something so loud.

Then it was broken.

All they heard was a mighty cry from Louis, as the door was crashed back against the wall. The sound echoed throughput the house. In the next second, the door to the sitting room was thrown open, revealing a grinning and shiny-eyed Louis yelling "Look who it is!" As he pulled forward another figure dressed in brown, a figure they all recognised at once.

"Liam!"

Liam was Rosie's grandson, and had been their friend for years. From a poorer family, he had entered the priesthood, and now often travelled around England and even France to further his learning and to help those in need. He was kind and generous, well suited to his profession, but loyal to the four boys in the sitting room above all else.

It was to Liam that Zayn had gone to when he came to the realisation that he wished to be with Niall more than any of the ladies his mother introduced him to, begging for salvation and help. Liam had comforted him, and instead of the disgust and judgement he had been expecting, Liam had hugged him as he had always done, telling him that love could never be a sin. Liam was the first one of the three they had told when they had admitted their feelings to each other. Three years later, he had stood as the priest at their wedding: Harry and Louis standing as witnesses.

They owed everything to Liam.

They enveloped him in a five way hug, for it had been a long time since they had seen him. Harry made him a quick meal and he settled in the chair in the middle of the group, nearest the fire, as if he had never left. 

They spoke long into the night: about Liam's travels, Zayn's ‘upcoming marriage’ – “my mothers words, not mine!” - Harry and Louis' misadventures, and Niall's court gossip. Niall was again cuddled into Zayn's lap, not an inch of space between them, and Louis and Harry curled together on the chaise. Liam just looked on fondly, and it filled Zayn with warmth, looking around at them now. 

He pushed Niall's words to the back of his mind: at this moment, they were together; they were safe.

****

But of course: all good things must come to an end. 

The days grew shorter and colder, leaves slowly turning into copper and rust in the setting sun. Every day, they waited with baited breath for the post to be announced: the letter which would summon them back. Every night, Niall would hold Zayn closer, tighter, until he was left with bruises and scratches he had to take great care to hide. He didn’t mind, of course, he got to leave the same on Niall.

The day the letter arrived, Zayn dismissed the servants - even Harry and Louis - on the pretence of going out to visit the neighbours and inform them of their impending departure. Instead, he and Niall spent the whole day in their bedchamber, never letting the other out of sight or reaching distance. 

They imprinted the scent and feel of each other in their skin, until all that existed between them was their shared pleasure. Because they knew that as soon as they were back at court, they would have to distance themselves.

"Please...don’t get married just yet." Niall begged that night, curled into Zayn's chest. The dark haired boy pulled him closer, a lump in his throat. "Never." He vowed. "I am already married, secret or not, legal or not, it binds me to you."

Blue eyes looked up to meet hazel. "I am scared they will take you from me. I can bear many things...but I could not survive that."

"You will never have too." Assured Zayn, tucking him in closer to his side.

As they drifted off, he wondered if he had just lied to Niall for the first time.

They returned to court the next day.

 

His mother was delighted to see them both, and pressed kisses to each of their cheeks before relinquishing them to his sisters, who were determined to share with him all the gossip and scandal he had missed, until he felt as if he had gone with them after all. His father gave him a firm handshake and half-hug, before enquiring after his estate, and had he managed to get a fair price?

It was good to be with his family again, but when his sisters sent Niall away to help the maids finish unpacking, his heart still ached.

Zayn remember Niall once telling him that court got worse every year. At the time, he thought he’d meant it was harder to sneak away due to all the new people, but soon, he realised this was not the case.

The king was out of temper, his changing moods alarming. The queen was sullen - there was still no announcement of a pregnancy, but many whispered she had suffered another miscarriage. There were vicious rumours circling, and it seemed even the smallest details were being reported to the wrong people for a price. 

Zayn felt hunted and exposed. Niall could no longer risk coming to his chambers at night, and they barely found reasons to give them any time alone. 

His mother constantly pushed his company to Lady Anne, hoping for a spring wedding, while his father revealed that Niall's mother had written to him, asking for his help in finding Niall a wife. "His devotion to Zayn and your family speaks highly of his character, but I hope you agree it is time he find his own wife and start his own family - I am sure you will understand the desire any mother has for grandchildren."

To Zayn's horror, his father did agree...sending back a reply stating that he would do all in his power to help get Niall married.

Zayn hadn’t lost his temper that quickly since he was 14.

"You cannot do this without asking me! He is my servant! My friend! I should have been consulted...Niall himself should have been consulted! How is he to manage both his duties and find a wife?!"

His father remained unaffected, reading through the papers on his desk. "He will still be able to serve you just as well as he always has, I will release him from any responsibilities laid on him from your sisters and myself, which will give him the time to find a wife. He will have full choice; all his mother asks is that I ensure the girl is suitable. With such a guardian, I am sure he will find one soon, and after they are married, they can both return to your service." 

His father paused, thinking. "If they wish to, of course...he may want to leave the court when she becomes with child."

He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "But do not worry my son, I was speaking Lord Pentinshire just this morning - he is delighted of the interest you have shown to his daughter, and has given you permission to ask for her hand; he is most impressed with your manners and bearing..."

Zayn was stunned. "I...have not...spoken to Lord Pentinshire about such...things..."

His father laughed. "I know you well my son, I knew you would be too shy to ask, so I did it for you. Mother’s are not the only ones who wish for grandchildren, you know."  
Zayn thought he was going to vomit. Bile clawed his throat and tore through his stomach at the thought of Niall having a wife, leaving him for this wife...them laying together, having a child together...Himself married to the young lady and spending his life talking about next week’s weather…

"No!" He burst out before he could stop himself, body taunt with tension and desperation. His father looked up, surprised. "What is the matter with you?"

Shit. Zayn gulped, straightening his shoulders to try and regain at least an act of normalcy. "I just...I would miss him...he has been my friend for as long as I can remember..." He bit his lip to stop himself from going on. Any more, and he would not be able to stop himself from blurting something out. Something dangerous. Something telling.

Thankfully, his father did not seem to notice. His features had softened, but his eyes remained firm. "I know how you feel, son, Robert was the first one of us to get married, and it was difficult to adjust to not having him around constantly, but you will get used to it - you always knew this was going to happen eventually." 

you don’t.' Thought Zayn, as his father went on. 'You will never know how I feel or else you would burn me yourself.'

The thought definitely did not help his mood.

"Thank you, father, I will tell him the news myself, if I may? We were going to ride out this afternoon." 

His father nodded, already going back to his work. He did not see the trembling in Zayn's body or the shine of unshed tears in his eyes.

He told Niall while they were waiting for the horses to be saddled, telling him how happy he was for him and teasing him about one of his sister’s maids. Niall laughed along with him, of course, even began to ask for courting tips, but Zayn could see the tension and hurt in every line of his body, the devastation in every fleck of his eyes, and it made him want to scream, and kiss him, and then take him home and barricade the door against the outside world.

He had to settle for a brief caress as he passed him through his riding gloves.

The ride out was urgent, as soon as they were out of sight they pushed Sabre and Warrior into a gallop, tearing through the forests and fields as if they were being chased by the devil himself.  
When the eventually slowed, Zayn's eyes were blood shot, while Niall had tears running down his face. "The wind..." He whispered as a half-hearted excuse, before they fell towards each other, shaking with sobs and holding each other too tight...but still not tight enough.

"I cannot do this. I can’t do this Zayn. I have done everything my family and yours have ever asked of me, but I cannot do this."

"I know, I know, neither can I."

"Please, Zayn please, find a way to stop this, please!"

He was sobbing openly now, shaking in Zayn's arms and Zayn himself trembled with pain and anger. It wasn’t fair. They had always known their families would try to get them married, but they had always thought they’d somehow be able to escape it, grow old as bachelors, and when Zayn's sisters had married, leave the court and grow old together in their home, in peace. It was always an impossible dream, but they had whispered about it to each other late at night, and it had been theirs’.

And now it was being taken from them.

"I cannot." He whispered, heart heavy as he realised that he was well and truly stuck. If he refused the Lady Anne now, questions would be raised – particularly, why was Niall also so adamant to refuse a bride? Their servants and families would be questioned, and it was then only a short step to discovery: for them; for Harry and Louis; even Liam.

They couldn’t stop it.

Niall just sobbed harder as Zayn whispered apologies into his hair.

Zayn did try, however: he argued with his father and mother for hours, wrote a letter to Niall's father, even hinted to the king that allowing him to be married would take him from court...but they stood firm in their desire to see him and Niall married, and there was nothing he could say or do to change their mind.

His mother began introducing Niall to suitable girls who she promised 'would be a fine companion.' As he had always done, Niall tried to smile and get on with it, making the girls laugh and accompanying them and their maids on walk around the grounds. But every night, he made his way to Zayn's room, where holding him tighter each time, jumping and starting at every noise, as if God himself would come through and drag him away.

Zayn was beginning to hate those nights. Seeing the fear in Niall's eyes, the tension that no amount of cuddling and reassurance could get rid of; it was like watching a man dying, one piece at a time, and he could do nothing to stop it.

Well...that wasn't strictly true.

There was an alternative, but it was almost unthinkable. And very likely to get them killed.

"We...could run away together." He murmured into Niall's hair one night, so quietly that he wondered if Niall would even hear it.

He did, if his body suddenly going rigid was anything to go by.

"What?"

He met his eyes. "I can sell our land and house quietly, we can use the money to disappear...Liam would help us, Harry and Louis could come with us. We could go to France or Spain; further, even, and be together quietly, just us."

For one split second, Niall's eyes lit up with the possibility, before he sighed, eyes softening as he looked at Zayn. "Our families?"

Zayn winced...because that was the issue, was it not? If they ran away together, their families would suffer, their possessions seized for the crown. Zayn's sister’s prospects would be ruined and Theo would probably end up a beggar. It was the only thing stopping them from running as soon as they'd said their vows. And it would be the thing that stopped them now. Zayn nuzzled his face into Niall's neck, tears itching behind his eyes. What was left to them then? Stolen moments at night when their wives were asleep? Slipping away from hunts for a quick fuck in the woods? Or would they never be allowed to see each other again...their wives wishing to pull them apart? 

He pulled Niall to him tighter, the tears finally brimming over because..."I don’t want to share you."

Niall stiffened, tucking his body around Zayn's like a second skin. "You will not...I belong only to you."

"But your wife..."

"I will not have one!" Niall snapped, sitting up and framing Zayn's face in his hands. "If they do not listen to reason, I will refuse every bride they offer me...I do not care what they think! I will not take another to my heart nor bed...they are yours, I am yours."

They clutched ay each other, tears slowly running down their cheeks. "They will guess." He whispered into the blond hair again. "If you refuse, find fault with all your potential brides, they will know, they will arrest you..." He broke off, voice breaking. "They will take you from me."

"Let them try."

A crack of anger snapped in Zayn's chest. "This is no game, Niall, they will burn you! They will not listen to any claim of innocence - they will torture you if they must! They will put you on the rack, use hot pokers; cut off your extremities...you will be so out of your mind with agony you will condemn us all without even realising! Even if you do not, you think I could bear that? Knowing you are in agony to protect me? You think I could stand for that?!"

He was shaking now, and Niall tried to shush him, looking fearfully towards the door.

"No." Zayn growled when he followed his gaze. "Let them hear, let them see! They can take us together...I would rather burn with you than live the rest of my life without you - you say you will refuse your bride? Then so will I!"

"Zayn, please! I’m sorry, please, I don't want to fight!"

Zayn let out a breath as he saw the tears in the blonde's eyes, and gently pulled him towards his body once again, the anger disappearing as quickly as it came. "I know, I’m sorry too love, I did not mean to get angry, I’m just sick and tired, of my parents and their expectations, my sisters and their freedom, Lady Anne and her father's designs..."

He broke off, chuckling sadly. "All I've ever wanted was to fall in love and have a family - and I am being denied it. I never thought that it was too much to ask for."

"It is when the one you fall in love with is the same as you." Niall sighs sadly. "I always wanted a child - a little me, with blonde hair and hazel eyes."

Zayn frowned. "Hazel? Your eyes aren’t hazel, love."

A sleepy chuckle. "No...But yours are."

Zayn looked at him then: his eyes half closed, skin pale in the moonlight, and content smile on his face.

He looked breath-taking.

"Our children would have been beautiful, if god had given us the ability."

Niall closed his eyes, smiling sleepily. "I always wanted to call my son Robert, for if it weren’t for him, I don’t think we would have fallen in love."

Zayn chuckled. "I always wanted a little girl...my own little princess to spoil." He curved his body around Niall’s, feeling sleep push at his eyelids. "I would have named her Rose, and old Rosie would have doted on her...on them both. Harry and Louis too."

Niall chuckled. "Liam would have christened them for us, and brought them presents from his travels. They would have called him Uncle Liam."

He was almost asleep, his voice growing softer and his body going pliant. Zayn was in a similar state, and he was just able to press a kiss to the back of his neck as he let sleep take over. 

"We would have been so happy."

They awoke to banging doors and screaming voices. 

Zayn jerked at the sound of his mother's scream, sitting up and trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes at the same time. He was groggy and disoriented, but he soon realised why his mother was screaming and his father was looking on, horrified and disgusted.

They were in Zayn's bedroom.

They were in Zayn's bedroom looking at Zayn and Niall.

They were in Zayn's bedroom, looking at Zayn and Niall naked and in bed together.

Oh shit.

Zayn bolted upright, wide awake and with a heavy sense of dread in his gut. "Mother...Father...I can explain...!"

He couldn’t, of course, but he was trying to buy time.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM! GET AWAY FROM MY SON." His mother screamed at Niall, who was cowering on the bed, clutching the bed covers as if they could protect him. "YOU PERVERT! SODOMITE! YOU RAPED MY SON! GET AWAY FROM HIM!" It was when his father stepped forward and grabbed Niall's arm that Zayn broke out of his trance. "NO! Father, let him go, he did nothing! He did not force me! Let him go! I LOVE HIM!"

Silence. Complete silence.

His father let Niall go as if he was infected, and he cuddled in to Zayn, shaking and pale. The two boys clutched at each other as they looked up at Zayn's parents - who for the first time in either of their lives looked like strangers.

"This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This can’t be! What about Lady Anne?!" His mother was screaming, before bursting into hysterical sobs and fleeing the room.

“Father, please…let me explain…” 

His father looked conflicted for a moment, before his expression hardened, and he sneered at them in disgust. “You are no son of mine; disgusting sinners! You will burn in hell for this!” He spat at them before storming out the room, calling for the King’s guard.

Zayn could already hear the yelling and the thunder of footsteps in the corridors.

They were caught.

"Get dressed; I will not have them take us naked." He whispered urgently in Niall’s ear, already rolling out of the bed and grabbing his clothes. He pulled on his breeches and boots, yanked on his shirt and pulled on his doublet, ignoring the laces. He turned to find Niall in a similar state, already making his way towards him.

They caught each other in their arms, pressing their lips together in a last desperate kiss. There was nothing they could do, nowhere could they run. They had lived with the fear of this day for ten years: it was almost relieving to be free of it. 

“I love you. I love you so much, never forget that.” Zayn whispered, pressing kisses to Niall’s face, running his hands through his hair.

“I love you too. So much. I regret nothing, Zayn, nothing. I would do it all again, every single day.”

Zayn felt tears itch at his eyes, and he tried to hold them back. They had too little time to waste it crying. “I would rather burn with you than live without you. There was never anyone else.” He pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “My husband.”

Niall sniffed, his eyes glassy, and pulled the two rings from the chain around his neck, slipping the smaller of the two around Zayn’s ring finger. As Zayn took Niall’s and slipped it on to his ring finger, he allowed the tears to fall. 

They had time for one last kiss before the door burst open, voices boomed through the room as rough arms forced them apart.

They ignored it all, their eyes locked on each other.

****

They were executed three days later. Liam read their last rites.

Zayn’s family did not attend, nor did Niall’s, but Harry, Louis, Old Rosie and her granddaughters stood in front of the scaffold with tears blurring their vision.

Their families’ reputations was ruined, but after much petitioning and protestations of innocence, the Malik’s were allowed to retire to their country estate. Zayn’s sisters’ all married local labourers.

Niall’s family returned to Ireland and began working for an elderly Irish Lord almost completely removed from court proceedings and gossip. Theo did not become a beggar, but trained as a blacksmith in the nearby village. 

Zayn and Niall’s house and land were seized by the crown, all but the small cottage Zayn had bought on his last trip home. He had signed it over to Harry and Louis a week before his death.

Harry and Louis lived in that small cottage for the rest of their lives, with Old Rosie as a housekeeper while Lily and Jess moved to London and became housemaids. 

They were visited often by Liam, and one evening he brought a baby girl with him – an orphan from France whose parent’s had been killed during a skirmish with Spanish soldiers.

They told everyone she was Louis’s sister, taken in to help his mother, and no one batted an eyelid.

One night, long after Old Rosie had retired and Natania had been put to bed, Louis found Harry sitting on the wall, gazing up at the stars.

“Harry, love, come inside, it’s getting cold.”

He said nothing for a minute, still looking at the ink-black sky. “Do you think they’re happy, wherever they are?”

Louis’ face softened as he joined Harry, taking his hand and looking up. 

“They are together, of course they’re happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!
> 
> Fun Fact: Natania is a biblical name meaning 'gift from God.' I thought it was appropriate!


End file.
